


Deliver Us From Evil

by Batagur



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batagur/pseuds/Batagur
Summary: Roger Loccoco saves Vince from an El Salvador death squad prison. Vince just wants to go back to one moment in time.
Relationships: Frank McPike/Vinnie Terranova, Roger Lococco/Vinnie Terranova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Hell in El Salvador

The last solid memory Vince had of joy and peace was holding Frank in his arms. It was an embrace so tight that it took both their breaths away. The solid real press of his partner and friend in his arms was almost intoxicating. The knowledge that Frank was there and wanted him back as badly as he wanted to be back with him was incredible. In that single moment, Vincent Michael Terranova knew beyond all doubt where he belonged.

They had hurt him. They had broken a number of bones in his body, including his neck. He had survived and recovered to a fashion. He walked with a limp he was sure he would have for life. He had lost muscle mass. The food was mostly watery stews, when they remembered to give him any. He had suffered a bout of explosive diarrhea, probably from dysentery, in the first ten days of his incarceration. His fever had been so high that he went from praying to God to praying to Pete. Then Pete blended indistinguishable with Frank, Uncle Mike, and his Mother in his fever dreams. Interchanging and harmonious in the kaleidoscope of his mind, he heard them all and longed.

The pale light of daybreak slipped through the slits of his small prison window bars. His right hand curled into a fist. He had long since lost track of how long he had been there. He only knew that the only reason he was alive was that he was a US federal agent. He was a potential bargaining chip against US international policy.

This place, he knew could not be a government sanctioned prison. It was a compound just west of nowhere. He couldn’t even be sure which country he was in. They had brought him in a chopper with a sack tied over his head. When they landed, he was led to a vehicle that he was thrown into the back of, maybe a pickup. He never really knew. He endured a long, bumpy ride.

At the end of the ride, they pulled him out and forced him to walk with them. He only knew he was indoors by the change of the play of lighting against the cloth of the sack. It was still miserably hot and sticky but now there was a breeze. He could hear the rattlely hum of a fan nearby. He was pushed into a chair. Only then was the sack removed. He blinked only because the sudden change of scenery. The man before him, sitting behind the desk in a bare room, he had never met before, but recognized from a picture.

The man introduced himself as Colonel Guerrera. He then proceeded give him lip service as to how he was their guest, and he would not be harmed. Vince knew what this was all about and he wasn’t about to just hold still and take it. He flew too close to the flame of money being funneled into a nasty little war and it was coming to the wrong side of the conflict, at least as far as US government interest were concerned. As a federal agent, he had to be silenced quickly. But also, as a federal agent, he could be an asset. Vince had spelled this out to man using some very choice explicative that would have made his momma Carlotta wash his mouth out with soap and made his brother snicker and tell him to see him in the confessional in the morning.

Colonel Guerrera had simply sat back in his chair with a mild expression on his face. His lips pressed tight beneath his thick mustache, he nodded to a solider standing to the left of Vince. The hit from the butt of a riffle knocked him out cold immediately. Obviously that conversation was over. Vince never saw Colonel Guerrera again.

After that, his life had become the living hell he now knew. They had grabbed him out of his home in jeans and a tee shirt, no shoes or socks. He had been planning to take a shower and then just eat a simple meal and relax in front of the TV. They stripped him of his jeans almost immediately when he arrived at his new compound home, a cell no bigger than 6 feet by 8 feet. There was some scuffle among the guards as to who would get Vince’s jeans. Vince’s Spanish had never been good; so he never found out who won and how. He was given a pair of pants with a draw sting waist to wear. He would have guessed them to be scrubs, but unlike scrubs, the material was rough and worn. There were holes in places that could allow his balls to do a peek-a-boo. He walked carefully in them.

This morning was no different than any other of the 562 plus days he had been there. A guard roused him. They had ceased to be rough with him. Now they just shook his shoulder to wake him. The man looked down at Vince with an expression that was supposed to be carefully blank. But Vince saw the pity deep in his eyes. Vince knew better that to try to play to that sympathy. The man was still holding an open-bolt, blowback-operated submachine guns at the ready. Pity only stretched so far. Vince got up off his cot.  
Then it was out to the compound yard for some fresh air and bird song. The birds sounded wonderful around those parts, with songs he had only ever heard in zoos or exotic movies. He took his usual seat on the ground where they served him his meals. Breakfast was bread, which was cheering. The bread was always surprisingly good and smelled and tasted fresh baked. That made sense. There weren’t any supermarkets out in butt-fuck Egypt. _“Be thankful for the little things,”_ the voice in his head that sounded like Pete told him yet again. He ate in silence. He thought of Frank.

He remembered when he first told Frank that he loved him. It had been more a gesture than an actual declaration.

_“Frank, take the money.”_

It tore Vince’s heart into pieces to see Frank so broken after learning his wife was going to die. Frank loved his wife, and Vince loved Frank. By some crazy emotional default, Vince felt bound to love the things Frank loved as well. He couldn’t sit idly by and watch Frank’s soul be ground into the dirt because money and the insurance bureaucracy decided who lived and who died. He loved Frank, and if loving Frank meant saving Jenny, then so be it. That time had been confusing and bitter-sweet for Vince as he came to terms with all the emotions he was feeling. He realized that he had never loved someone so deeply in his life. The words “I would do anything for you,” were not sufficient to express what he was feeling.

After breakfast came exercise. He ran the compound yards, which was only half the size of a baseball field, twenty laps. Then he did push-ups, twenty sets of ten. Tomorrow it would be pull- up on the bar the guards allowed for him. Hector, one of his main guards, had told him once in broken English that they had been ordered to keep him alive and somewhat healthy. Regardless, especially in the early days he had experienced rough treatment that had broken his collarbone more than once and ribs, an arm, his cheek bone. The one bad beating that ended with a rifle butt to his spine, a hairline fracture to a vertebra, and five months of agony had ended the cycle of excessive abuse. The guards who had dealt those winning blows disappeared. A new set of fresh faces arrive who spoke even less English than there predecessors. But these guys had been given strict orders: do not permanently damage the prisoner. US Federal agents are more valuable alive.

After exercise, he was generally allowed a few different activities. Reading material was available but only a short amount was in English. The Spanish he took in high school was inadequate to help him through most of the books, but the magazines had picture and easy to read headlines and by-lines. He could guess the rest. He had paper and pencils and he doodled and drew. It was never anything elaborate nor was it anything that would give his emotional state away. And although he saw the faces of those people that he loved clearly in his mind, his hands shied away from translating those faces to the page before him. He willed them to stay up there safe in his mind.

Today he chose to draw. If you had asked Vince back in Jersey or New York if he could draw, he would have chuckled and told you, _“Yeah, I can draw… Draw flies!”_ Only his mother and brother knew he was more talented with a pencil than he would ever let on. For Frank, he doodled funny pictures during boring budget meetings to see that little lift of one corner of his mouth that generally signified amusement. It had been enough.

Today he drew a bird. It was a barn owl. He did it from memory. He did it because if he could make Frank any bird in the world, he would be a barn owl, a silent flyer, a stealthy and deadly hunter. Not as big and as burly as your traditional birds of prey but just as effective. He had seen Frank kill with surgical precision never allowing his prey to suffer. Vince completed his sketch by late afternoon. It was almost time for dinner, in theory. He was only given the two meals a day but he was allowed all the water he wanted. He often kept his little tin cup full by his side as he went through his day.

Dinner came as the sun was starting to drop lower in the sky through the canopy of the thick rainforest that surrounded the compound. There was beef in the stew this evening and it tasted much better than usual. They must have let someone new cook. He would not have called it delicious but it was satisfying. The mid-day rain had come and gone while he had been drawing. It left the evening air heavy with humidity as it usually did. This place had only two settings: wet and dry. Hot or cold was not an option. The result was that was the humidity made sleep harder to come by. Vince stayed up until the sun had set and the guards were standing over him telling him to call it a day.

“Mañana,” Hector said as he closed his cell door.

***

Vince woke up to the violent explosion that threw him off his cot and on to the dirt floor. Then there was the staccato noise of a machine gun going off. Vince stayed down for the moment trying to assess in the darkness what maybe happening outside. Had the dirty little war reached this compound at last? He could hear the men shouting. The gun fire was coming closer. Vince considered barricading the door with his cot.

It was too late. The gun fire was just outside his door. The fire fight was fierce. Someone fell directly against his door and through the light under bottom of the door he saw a limp hand and blood. Then another explosion, one that Vince had not been ready for. It had happened against his door, and thank Christ he had stayed on the ground. Now everything was dust and confusion. His hearing was stunned by the concussive blast. He blinked but his vision was blurred. Hands grabbed him from the ground. A muffled voice sounded in his ear. The only word he could make out was “Safe!”

The foggy silhouette of the man who held him up right was familiar. Vince was staggering along in his grasp, fleeing past barely recognizable chaos and the light of fires that were consuming the compound in the middle of the rain forest. The man pushed him into the seat of a car and shouted something else directly in his face. For a moment Vince’s vision cleared and he caught a brief glance and recognized golden curls.

“Roger?”

After that, he didn’t know what happen. He surmised later that he had pasted out.


	2. Welcome to Belize

Vince woke up. His head hurt and his muscles ached. Nevertheless, he was surprisingly comfortable. He carefully opened his eyes. However what he saw was only half the story. The clean white and pale blue bedding he was lying on smelled so fresh. The pillow under his head felt like it was filled with the downy feathers of a cherub. The bed itself felt like lying on the clouds of heaven. The room was airy and bright. The balcony window was open and an ocean breeze fluttered the floor length white linen curtains. It was definitely an ocean breeze. He knew that feeling anywhere, the sweet tingle of the salt air in his nostrils and on his tongue. He wasn’t in the jungle any more. He gripped the soft cotton sheets on the bed in his fist. This wasn’t a dream. But he didn’t know yet what it really was. He carefully raised himself up on the bed. He had been stripped of his filthy clothing and was naked beneath the sheets. Looking down the length of the bed he saw that someone had thoughtfully left a white terrycloth robe draped over the left end corner.

He was careful, his head was throbbing and he wondered if it was yet another concussion. At this rate he will have taken more hits than when he was a Golden Gloves fighter. That with the malnutrition was certainly a recipe for going full on stupid. He held still for a moment, assessing if he would be nauseous. After a few moments and a couple of deep breaths, he decided to risk standing. He took it slow, one cautious movement at a time. He rose to his feet out side of the comfort of his bed and realized the deep shag carpet that sunk around his feet and between his toes so delightfully. He took a few steps to reach for the robe left for his use. He shrugged the soft terrycloth robe on, wrapping it about his waist and tying it shut. It smelled as fresh and clean as the bed and it felt wonderful against his skin.

The room was large and airy with beige walls and white linen everywhere. The bed frame and Chifforobe was solid mahogany. There was a table and chair as well and a full length mirror on a door. Vince went to it. He hadn’t seen his own reflection in all this time. He wasn’t too surprised by what he saw. His beard was full again and his hair was long. He was leaner. He would never fill out those Armani suits again. His face looked pinched with pain, and not just the pain of the moment but the lingering of hurts that would never heal right. His eyes were sunken in. he looked worn. He felt worn. He felt like the overly loved chew toy of a Pitbull.

“Sleep well, Buckwheat? “

He could see Roger in the reflection behind him. He was standing just inside the doorway opposite the mirror.

“Good enough,” Vince replied and was disappointed with how rough his voice sounded. He turned to face his savor. Roger was wearing a clean light blue shirt and cargo pants. He looked like he always did, immaculate and a little noble, or at least a fair sham of decency.

“Right behind that door is a bathroom with a tub that has a whirlpool,” Roger said gesturing to the door with the mirror behind Vince. “I suggest you enjoy that.”

“Where am I,” Vince asked.

“Safe,” Roger said simply. “We’ll discuss the details later.” He turned and walked away, leaving the door to his room wide open. It was a clear signal that Vince was truly free to do as he pleased.

What pleased Vince was to take advantage of the aforementioned tub. The bathroom was huge. There was so much floor space that Vince was certain he could throw a dance party in there. The tub itself was obviously made to fit two comfortably. There were controls for a heater and a whirl pool. The counters with the sinks were marble and the faucet fixtures were plated gold. A whole wall of glass backed those sinks. A tooth brush, still in its carton and tooth paste lay on the counter. Body towels, hand towels and face towel lay folded on a shelf near the tub. There was also a small shower stall, a toilet and a bidet.

Vince sat in that heated whirlpool tub for over an hour, just letting his muscles relax and sink into the best feeling they have had in ever so long. His head lolled back and he let his thought drift. They drifted back to a day on the fishing trip he took with Frank and Uncle Mike and the wound up singing “happy trails” around a camp fire until the rain started. It had been bliss, although at the time Vince would have never admitted to that. The memory of that night was like a gift that taught him that life was too short to bicker and argue with the ones you love. Too bad he didn’t get the meaning of that lesion until he had been irrevocably separated from them. He wondered if his mother was alright.

He prayed to God she was alright. He started to pray the Rosary. He didn’t need the beads to count his novenas. He knew it by heart.

When he finished in the bathroom he felt somewhat remotely close to human again. His hair was washed. His beard was not in a tangle. Still damp, he slipped on the robe and went out to the bed room. Fresh clothing lay neatly draped across the bed, a white shirt, soft gray Lenin loose pants, boxers and an undershirt. He put them on. The whole ensemble was loose but comfortable. A belt kept the gray pants up over his hips. There were socks and loafers by the bed as well. Vince skipped that step and wandered out the bedroom door.

He regretted not taking a look outside the open balcony, but he was too curious to see and speak with Roger again. He was sure the scenery would still be there after he got some answers. The hall way from his room was also bright and airy, like every window in house was open, carrying that sea breeze throughout in a rush semi-cool freshness with a hint of hot tropical sun. Vince walked out to a larger open main room, floor length windows on all sides, all open and no curtains. The furniture was teakwood and white linen with plain simple lines, low and comfortable. There were minimal decorations, nothing on the one windowless wall other than the closed dark wood cabinet of a home entertainment center. It was like living in an exquisite well-appointed fish bowl. Loccoco knew how to make Spartan elegant.

Vince walked further in the room. To the right was an open doorway to a dining area, also mostly windows and a long six seat dining table also made of teakwood as were the white cushioned chairs. With so much cream and white and sunlight, Vince thought that maybe Roger was trying to fool himself that this was heaven. Lord knew guys like them were never going to get to the real one by conventional means.

“There you are,” Roger said as he walked into the dining room from a swing door that must have led to the kitchen. He held two glass of orange juice in his hand. He offered one to Vince. “Ain’t fresh squeezed, Buckwheat. I don’t have that kind of patience.”

Vince knew that his face had given off the instant displeasure of Roger’s favorite meaningless term of endearment. It always made him think of Eddie Murphy on Saturday Night Live playing a ludicrous role. But he saw Roger smile when he realized that he had yet again hit a nerve.

“You need to let that go,” Roger chuckled. “I am who I am.” He re-extended the offered glass of juice.

Vince took the glass and muttered, “Fuck you too, Spanky.”

“Let’s go sit in the sunshine.”

Roger led him out one of the open bay windows of the dining room out to a deck with table, chairs and a thatched roof. In front of him was swaying palms, white sands, crystal blue water and a sky so flawless that it would have broken the heart of an artist not to capture it. The sea and sky extended on for as far as his eyes could see in all directions. The house itself was a stone, stucco and glass structure, again with clean lines. Roger loved clean lines. They were easily severed.

“Welcome to Belize,” Roger said as he gestured to the scenery around them. “Have a seat.”

Vince took a seat at the white washed wrought iron table with four chairs. One question answered so far, he thought. He tasted his orange juice, so what it wasn’t fresh squeezed. Fresh squeezed was sometimes overrated. The next question wasn’t the obvious one.

“Where the hell was I?”

Roger took the seat next to him and looked out on the blue water. “In an illegal prison set up by the government… or at least by some government official, about seventy eight miles due east of El Chorizo.”

“How did you find me?”

“Dumb luck.” Roger took a long sip of his orange juice before looking over to Vincent. “You are a hard man to find, Terranova. And before you ask, they think you are dead… at least most people do. They had a real nice private memorial service for you. Only the in-the-know people were invited. But I’d bet everything I have left that your mother and Frank McPike were certain in their hearts, even at that ceremony, that you were alive. Neither one of them cried. Not a tear between the two. McPike even hinted to as much in his eulogy. He didn’t know where you were, but it sure as hell wasn’t dead. “

“And you?” Vince asked.

“I’m a pragmatist,“ Roger replied. “I accepted the facts as they come to me. One day it came to my ear from another pragmatist, that someone I knew was being held against his will in El Salvador. That someone was possibly a US federal agent, snatched because he knew too much.”

“And you put two and two together,” Vince surmised.

“That’s the least of it.” Roger finished his juice in one last gulp.

Enough said. From there Vince saw the rest, the plans made, the supplies acquired, the manpower assembled, and the exit strategy laid out. He wouldn’t ask the personal cost or the favors called in. It would be rude at this point. Vince switched gears.

“My mother?” He sat the glass on the table and leaned in for the answer. His brow constricted in fear of the possible answers.

“She’s ok. Her and Rudy Aiuppo are living is a nice little retirement village in Boca Raton. I think they would have liked to have had grand kids to visit, but it is what it is.”

“Yeah, well…” Vince wanted to say that it was his fault on the no grandkids, but he knew that he did try. If Susan Profitt had really been pregnant; if Amber Twine had just been ready and willing to let go of the life she loved so well, Momma Carlotta would have had her grandbaby. It fucking sucked that it took a man and a woman to make a child. He would have Frank’s baby, if he could. Give Drake a little brother.

A laugh bubbled out of him from the absurdity of this thought and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward, trying to contain his self-loathing.

“What, Buckwheat?” Roger asked in a gentler tone. It almost made the pet name easier to swallow.

“Nothin’,” Vince said letting Brooklyn slip back into his accent full force. “Not a damn thing. At least nothing you would understand.” He looked over at Roger again who was regarding him with caring eyes.

“Try me.”

Vince weighed his response against the gentle concern in Roger’s gray blue eyes. He took a chance. “Have you ever been in love with someone you know you shouldn’t be in love with… and it so wrong on so many different levels you can’t even count them all?”

“All the time, my friend,” Roger replied in a softer voice yet.

Vince only realized that Roger was leaning in towards him moments before Roger’s lips touched his gently. Vince eyes flutter close as he accepted the sweet touch offered him. A gentle hand touched his cheekbone. Then his face was cradled in two large masculine hands. The kiss ended but Roger did not pull away.

“You need a shave, Buckwheat,” he chuckled.

That made Vince smile. “You can’t handle the beard?”

“Nobody could handle that Brillo pad.” But Roger leaned in for another kiss. This kiss was less gentle and more needy. It brooked no misinterpretation of Roger’s intent. Roger wanted him. His mouth took savagely, irregardless of the so-called Brillo pad. Vince’s lower lip was nipped and sucked. His tongue forced into a duel. The hairs growing out under his bottom lip, “the flavor savor” were chewed tenderly.

Vince knew he should probably stop Roger. Roger possibly wanted something that Vince may not be able to give. But, good God, his body craved touch and Roger was offering it. One of Roger’s hands tenderly moved down his neck and smoothed over his chest. But Roger stopped suddenly. He pulled back and took one of Vince’s hands.

“You trust me, Vinnie?”

“I have no reason not to.” It was a pat answer but anything more would have revealed too much of his heart. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go there with Roger.

Roger stood, making Vince stand with him. Roger led him by the hand back inside. They went through the dining room past the living room and down the hall towards the bedrooms. They went past the door that had been the entrance to Vince’s room and towards a door at the end of the hall.

This bedroom was obviously the master bedroom. It was a suite within the house itself with a small living area and a room dedicated to the wardrobe of the occupant. Through that room was a bathroom twice the size of Vince’s. It was all gold and marble and lived-in with toiletries scattered across the sink counter top.

Roger grabbed a wooden chair from the wardrobe room and brought it in with them as they entered the bathroom. He sat it down facing away from the sink and counter.

“Sit,” he told Vince.

Vince did as he was told, and he truly did feel as if he had no reason not to trust Roger. But it wasn’t for the reasons that Roger was looking for. Roger unbuttoned his white shirt and helped Vince out of it. He left his under shirt on but draped a towel over Vince’s shoulders.

Roger picked something up off of the counter behind Vince. A neat buzz started when the instrument was switched on. Roger brought it forward, and electric razor.

“Let’s get this party started,” Roger said. He started on his right cheek, stripping away eighteen plus months of overgrown beard.

Vince closed his eyes as he felt his beard fall away. The hairs landed heavily on his chest, and he wanted to laugh at the fact that his face had been like a weed choked overgrown yard. There were house not too far from his old neighborhood, with boarded windows and doors and graffiti decorated walls that had yards that resembled his face right now. But Roger was striping away the unkempt and untamed mess. As he felt Roger finish with cheeks and neck and move on to chin and mustache, Vince’s face felt lighter and cooler. His head tipped back, he opened his eyes and looked directly into Roger’s

There was definitely love there. Vince could feel himself being adored. The mustache came away, the last of the facial disarray that had marked his ordeal. Roger turned off the razor and pulled the towel from Vince’s shoulders.

“Go take a hot shower,” he instructed. “Get the hair off you and relax that stubble. We’ll tackle that next.”

Vince stood and turned to face his refection in the mirror. He felt less and now he looked less. He touched his own chin, amazed at how gaunt he looked.

“You can’t spend over a year and some change in a rainforest prison without losing a few pounds,” Roger said in response to his hesitation.

Vince saw Roger behind him in the mirror’s reflection. His hands rose slowly and hovered just short of a caress of Vince’s shoulders, but he stopped himself and dropped his hands.

“Hurry up with the shower, “ he said. “We have more work to do.” Roger left the room.

Vince took the quick shower that had been prescribed. When he came out of the shower stall, he found Roger standing next to the chair again. In his hands a shaving brush and a soap dish where he was making a rich lather. He froze in place as he saw Vince emerge from the shower. His eyes travel hungrily up and down Vince’s naked body.

Vince grabbed a towel and wrapped it about his waist. He took a second towel to dry off his torso, face and hair.

“Sit down, and don’t let you face get too dry,” Roger said in a husker tone than before. “You are a fucking distraction,” he muttered. “…Your own worst enemy right now.”

“I’m not askin’ you to shave me, Roger.”

“But I am anyway, “ Roger replied.

Vince sat back down in the chair, draping the second towel over his shoulders himself. Roger approached with the brush full of lather.

“Sorry if it’s cold,” Roger said as he started the application. “I know some of those fancy barber shops that service the “Goombas” in Brooklyn and the Bronx have those elaborate lather heaters. I don’t go for all that flash.”

“I can take a cold lather,” Vince said with a slight chuckle.

“I could use a cold shower,” Roger replied. He smoothed the lather around his chin and across his jawline.

“You asked me if I trusted you earlier. Don’t make me doubt my answer,” Vince said. But nevertheless he let his eyes close and he tilted his head back to allow Roger better access to his neck. Lather was tenderly applied. Then there was a pause. Vince opened his eyes again to see Roger standing over him with a double edged safety razor with a polished bamboo handle.

“Don’t worry,” Roger said. “The blade is new and sterile.”

Vince sighed and closed his eyes once more. He let Roger manipulate his head and neck to get at all the places the stubble hid. Roger’s fingers were firm and sure on his chin. The blade scraped smoothly across Vince’s skin. It was over in minutes. Roger wiped the remaining lather with the towel about his shoulders.

“Ok,” he said.

Vince opened his eyes and stood. He turned around to face himself in the mirror. Clean shaven even with the longer hair, he was almost himself.

“There is Vincenzo again," Roger said softly and slowly. This time the hands came up and settled gently on Vince’s shoulders. They ran slowly downs his still broad shoulders and arms in a tender caress. Vince turned to face him, looking him in the eyes. In the next heartbeat, Roger was kissing him again. His hands cradled Vince’s face again as if he were precious. His kisses were passionate and deep but respectful. It was obvious that he was waiting for Vince to respond, to kiss him back in full measure.

Vince’s head told him that he should. He owed this man his life. He could let him live inside a lie for at least a night. But it was the very tenderness of his touch that told his heart that a move like that would be a cruel mistake.

Roger pulled back from their kiss and searched Vince’s eyes.

“I’m not the one,” Roger said. And Vince could hear the heartbreak in his whispered words. “I’m not the one you are willing to risk the second layer of hell for. Not the one that it’s so wrong on so many different levels you can’t count them all.”

Vince looked down and away from the pain in Roger’s eyes.

“No, Vinnie," Roger said on the end of a heavy sigh. “Don’t feel guilty.” He took Vince’s face in his hands again and made him look up at him once more. “You love who you love. Who I love isn’t your problem.”

“Roger, you saved me…”

“I know what I did," Roger growled. “And I know others who would have done the same! One of them is the lucky bastard who has your heart. He just didn’t have my luck or my connections.”

Roger chuckled at the irony of it all as he let go of Vince and turned away to wander out of the bathroom and into the wardrobe. He didn’t turn as he continued to speak.

“And I know he is a he… And I know he’s known you longer than me. You probably started falling for him long before you even knew I existed.” Roger walked away out from the large master bed room leaving Vince alone.

Vince put his clothes back on and went out to sit in the sunshine again.

***  
It was afternoon before Vince realized he hadn’t eaten yet. His life style of the past months had taught his body to be satisfied with less. He had been running on the sugar in his morning orange juice all day. It had probably been a feast of glucose calories for his starved system. He went back inside to look for the kitchen. He found it where he had expected. And it was as he expected: White marble counters and onyx cabinets and a center island with a stainless steel stove top and sink. He looked into the black refrigerator that matched the cabinets and found plenty. There were deli meats sliced and fresh, each type wrapped in a butchers clean white paper and taped shut to seal in freshness. There were vegetables and fruits in the glass front crispers. The gallon of pasteurized orange juice was on the bottom door shelf along with a gallon of 2 percent milk. Above that were condiments, mayonnaise, ketchup and mustard. And above that, bottles of water, distilled and imported spring water. Pickles and olives were in the main compartment by the lunch meats. The second shelf held bottles of beer and various left over containers. Below that were a carton of eggs and a few packages of uncooked bacon.

Vince closed the door of the refrigerator and looked about the kitchen again until he spied what he hoped was a bread box. Upon investigation, he found he was correct. He made a cold cut sandwich and wolfed it down in a minute and was fuller than he had been for the longest time ever. It was a blessing until it was a curse, when he realized he may have eaten it too fast. He lay down on his guest bed trying to subdue the sudden bout of nausea.

The sun was setting when he woke up again. He felt better. The house was still silent. He wandered the rooms looking for Roger. Roger wasn’t there. Vince wondered but he did not leave the house. Instead he turned on the lights and shut a few windows. He opened the entertainment center in the living room. There were VHS videos and a VCR, but Vince chose music that night. He turned on the stereo choosing one of Roger’s cassette tapes. It had been so long since he had heard American music that he nearly wanted to cry when the first few notes of a Steely Dan song filtered through the surround-sound speakers.

He sat on one of the overstuffed low couches and sipped on a glass of milk until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He closed the rest of the window and left a single light on in the main room and went back to his room and his bed.

He awoke again the next day. It was just past dawn. Vince walked the house again. It was as he left it last night and still no Roger. This day he put on the loafers and stepped beyond the covered breakfast deck. He walked the house grounds and discovered he was on a private island off the coast of Belize in the Caribbean Sea. There was a dock without a boat, but there were two jet skis on a floating dock with black covers that said Yamaha in big white letters.

Uncertain of the distance to the mainland, he was effectively a prisoner again.

After another day alone, he decided to cook for himself. Bacon and eggs was the first attempt at navigating that unfamiliar kitchen. He found the pots and the pans. He found the plates and the silverware. He found the pantry, and it was stocked with just about everything else he had been dreaming of for the last eighteen months, including Cheerios and peanut butter.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed when he saw those items.

That night, in his new prison he felt like he was living like a king, eating a peanut butter sandwich and watching a VHS of the Wizard of Oz.

***


	3. purgatory

He was starting to know the house better now. He found the laundry and he wasn’t surprised to see that his old clothes were nowhere to be found. The clothing provided was loose but they fit to a fashion. Roger had done the best he could, considering all the factors. He had found an office with a three bookshelves floor to ceiling with books… in English! Well, there were three in French, but what the hell.

It was evening as he sat reading Crime and Punishment on the breakfast deck on the fourth day when he saw the speedboat approaching. He put the book down and squinted out to the western horizon. The sunset obscured his view for a moment, but he could soon see the boat had a single occupant. As it drew closer, he recognized Roger’s tousle of blond curls.

Vince went down to the dock to meet the boat.

Roger tied the boat to the dock post and walked up the board walk to meet Vince. He was all smiles.

“Hey, where the hell were you?” Vince shouted indignantly.

“Making right a wrong,” Roger answered enigmatically. “Now I have a question for you,” he said before Vince could get another word in. “Where’s the rest of that money I gave you?”

Vince’s stopped short at that. He had told Roger what he had done with some of that money even though it had probably tipped his hand. Roger came closer to him, stepping inside his personal space. He leaned in and whispered against his ear.

“I hear Jenny McPike’s enjoying that new liver.”

“You hear a lot of shit,” Vince replied.

“May be I do,” Roger said as he took one step back. “I have a lot of pragmatic friends who value knowledge. So whatever happened to the Swiss accounts?”

Vince sighed. “In a safety deposit box in a Brooklyn bank. If you want them, they‘re yours.”

“I don’t need them, Buckwheat. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t throw it all away on a dumb bitch who couldn’t appreciate how much her husband loved her. I hear anti-rejection drug cost a fortune.” He looked away for a moment and gave a short laugh. “The great and honorable Frank McPike tossed all his principle over the fence for her and she sent him packing. The fucking irony is still staggering.”

“Tell me about it,” Vince muttered as he rubbed his forehead, trying to hold back the bare jealousy he still felt for the woman.

“The irony doesn’t end there, Buckwheat," Roger laughed out and looked back up at Vince. “Little did our hero know that the box of money given to him by his partner was an act of true love.” Roger suddenly sobered. “Given from one man to another for the sake of true love, and then passed on again to our hero for the sake of true love… but not for his wife’s sake, but for him.”

Vince sighed again knowing that Roger saw the truth of it now.

“But hey," Roger said. “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s continue this conversation in the house.”

“Sure," Vince replied.

They walked back to the house together in silence.

Once there, Roger made himself a bowl of cereal. “You’ve been sucking down all the milk,” he groused. “This was supposed to last us a week.” He shook the nearly empty jug at Vince.

“It’s nearly been a week here, buddy. You gotta be here to enjoy it,” Vince shot back.

Roger laughed. “Fuck you, Vinnie,” he said with a smile. “Even when you’re bitchy you make my dick ache.”

Vince sat down at the dining table across from Roger. Roger dug into his Cheerios with pleasure; Not saying another word for at least a number of spoonfuls.

Then he spoke. “Did you ever try to tell him that you loved him?”

Vince sighed again and looked at his hands. “I ran away from him in that Washington state Podunk town. You remember. I sent for you to cover my unhinged, coward ass. I never thanked you for that.”

“No sweat man,” Roger said. “We’ve all had battle fatigue before. There wasn’t much to mop up after you left. Volchek was more crazy than corrupt. Lynchboro grew up once he let go of the delusion. “

“I still deserted my post. I deserted him. I ran to Seattle. He came for me and he found me. Uncle told me that he personally approached every Catholic parish in Seattle until he found me. The night he found me, I came so close to saying the words in his ear as I held him, but I didn’t.

“I had had peace in that church but I didn’t feel complete until he was in my arms. I didn’t want him to leave me, but I wasn’t ready to go back yet. Then that motherfucker-may-he-rot-in–hell Kousakis shot Frank and nearly killed him." Vince stopped for a moment as he realized he still ground his teeth when he thought of the deplorable worm who nearly stole Frank away from him. He took a deep breath and released the old anger again. His shoulders dropped a bit with that release.

“When I got to the hospital, his heart had stopped and all the medical staff was trying to divvy up his organs for transplant recipients. I couldn’t let him go without telling him how much I needed him. But when I saw him, covered in blood, I went a little hysterical. All I could do was shout at him, ‘breath, Frank! Breath!’ And then he did.

“Father Patrick had been giving him his last rites. He said it was a miracle. Franks eyes open for a second and he said, ‘bells.’

  
“Now, believe it or not, a week before, I was about to throw myself off a bridge when I heard the Church bells of Saint Ignatius’s. I went there and told Father Pat that the sound of the bells was what stopped me from suicide. He told me that the bells were broken and hadn’t rang in over a decade. Fuckin divine intervention?”

Roger shrugged. “I don’t analyze those things. Miracles and divine intervention happen too often to not be real, but too irregular and linked with crazy coincidence to be real.”

Vince felt close to tears now when he thought of it. “God gave me Frank back and I still didn’t have the balls to say the words. I told him that I needed him. I told him that I couldn’t imagine life without him…”  
Vince stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his fingers over his eyelids in an attempt to hold back the tears.

“I think that’s just a round-about way of saying it," Roger said. “I’m no love expert, but people you need and can’t imagine a life without are usually people you love… a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Vince replied. He then lowered his hands and looked at Roger. “Hey, Loccoco, where’d you put my old clothes?”

Roger laughed suddenly at the question that came out of left field. “Those fucking pants were ripe, Buckwheat. Weapons grade! I burned them in the fire pit off the back deck. The tee shirt was salvageable but I figure you probably didn’t want to see that bitch again either; so in it went too.”

Vince laughed too.

Roger got up from his chair taking his now empty bowl of cereal back through to the kitchen. Vince followed.

“You should get to bed,” Roger said as he rinsed his dish. “Big day tomorrow! I got you a surprise from the mainland. It should be here before midday."

“What is it? "

Roger turned around and gave a sweeping gesture with his hands, “It’s a surpisessss. It won’t stay a surprise if I tell you about it.”

“I’m too awake to sleep,” Vince admitted.

“Well, “ Roger replied. “We have choices, cards, a movie or screw.”

“You still want me… after all this,” Vince chuckled.

Roger shrugged, “I’d let you pretend I was McPike, if that’s what you needed. I’d let you pretend I was anyone in the whole world just to get my skin on your skin… But I know that’s not how you work.” Roger sighed. “So I guess its cards or a movie.”

They watched Logan’s run.

***

Vince heard the sound of a helicopter at about half past 10 AM the next morning. He joined Roger outside. Roger was wearing his lucky bomber jacket. They watched the helicopter approach a clearing that Vince knew had been specifically made on that island for copters to sit down. It came out of the sky smoothly and lighted on the earth, blowing a gust of sand and dust for a moment. A man climbed out of the helicopter.

“You should have seen the fur on that one, Vinnie. It was like he had grown a sympathy beard for you,” Roger said as the man turned to face them. “I’m glad I asked him to shave it off.”

Before he saw his face, Vince knew by his body shape in that dark gray business suit and the way he moved. He knew by the sparse hair on his head and the slight hunch of his shoulders. He knew that Roger had delivered to him his heart’s desire.

Francis Xavier McPike’s level stare landed on him, and Vince felt frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Now if you’ll excuse me," Roger said. “I’ll be taking a helicopter ride. I’ll be back in a few days. Oh, and the boat’s all gassed up if you need it.”

With only that as a farewell, Roger strolled over to the helicopter. A small luggage bag was handed down to Roger as he arrived which he gave to Frank. Vince could see that they exchanged some words, none of which Vince could hear over the noise of the copters blades. They shook hands. Then Roger pulled himself aboard the helicopter and Frank stepped back to a safe distance. In moments it was airborne again and swing away from the Island heading west towards the mainland.

Vince turned his attention back Frank, who was straightening his wind ruffled tie. Frank then picked up his luggage and began to walk towards Vince.

Vince’s heart was pounding so hard, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. And every step that Frank came closer only made his heart pound harder. Frank stopped just within arm’s reach, dropping his bag and looking him in the eye emotionlessly. Vince, however, felt as he would hyperventilate.

“Frank,” he croaked out, barely in control.

Frank’s hand shot out like lightening, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Vince was pulled into a hard, unrelenting embrace. Vince grabbed back, clawed like a drowning man, pulling himself as full as he could into Frank’s arms. He whimpered, sobbing like a baby, pushing his face to Frank’s neck. He took in the familiar smell of Frank’s skin, Ivory soap and musk. He felt his knees weakening, but he kept himself from buckling under the emotion of it all.

“It’s okay,” Frank soothed against him, his lips against Vince’s temple. He shushed him gently as he held him firmly. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re with me now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” Frank pressed a kiss to the side of his head above his temple. “I promise. I promise, Vinnie. I promise.”

Vince couldn’t form coherent words. He merely sobbed brokenly against Frank. He buried his face in Frank’s shoulder, hiding in his embrace against a world that was cruel beyond measure. But he was home now, blessedly home. He was being held in the tight embrace of the man he loved beyond all others; His sturdy frame helping to hold him upright and his gentle words keeping the insanity of insecurity at bay.

“Frank!” he said again against the beloved skin beneath his lips. Vince wanted to melt into that embrace and never emerge again. He was tired of being single and solitary. He had looked at the prescribed method of women to achieve his whole. The equation never balanced. Now, here he was in this man’s arms, feeling all of the calculations slip into place.

“Vincent,” Frank said firmly, calling Vince back from his self-indulgence. “Hey, Vincent.” Frank lifted Vince’s head from his shoulder and made him look at him in the eye.

“It’s okay now. I promise,” Frank said. “It’s over, you’re safe. I’m here.”

Vince eyes cleared as he looked into Frank’s eyes. He regained his rationality.

“Why don’t we go inside, Vince,” Frank asked.” I’d really like a drink.”

Vince blinked as his mind cleared from the enflamed state he had been in.

“Yeah…” Vince said. “Yeah.” Frowned as he seemed to remember he was being remiss on his cordiality as a host. “Here, let me take that.” Vince reached for the single piece of luggage.

“Fuck you, you ape,” Frank exclaimed as he grabbed back his own bag. “I can carry my own shit.”

This was the man he loved. Vincent’s heart smiled. He hastily wiped away tears with a single hand and nodded. “Ok, McGrump,” he said recovering an old endearment. He led Frank back to the house.

Inside, Frank stopped and looked around in open-mouthed wonder. “A jewel of a villa on a private Island. Roger never does anything half-ass.”

Vince chucked as he looked back at Frank gawking at his surroundings. “Yeah, Roger is a full-ass kinda guy.” He then snickered a bit at the double meaning of his last statement.

“Now, I would have decorated better,” Frank commented.

“Leave it to you, this place would be floor to ceiling with kitsch and curios,” Vince teased.

“Never underestimate the value of a curio,” Frank replied. “The little things… the souvenirs you pick up when you travel are the best. It’s nice for a person to remember where they had been. I wonder what curio I’ll pick up here...” His voice seemed to trail off wistfully as he looked about.

Vince watched him for a moment longer, lost in fascination with him. Frank could say things so trivially, and it took you a moment until you realized how truly deep he had delved. Vince understood all too well. He wanted to be that curio too.

Vince cleared his throat. “I’ve got juice here,” he said “there is beer in the fridge too. Bottle spring water…”

“I’ll have the water,” Frank replied.

Vince watched him for a second more before he went off to the kitchen to get Frank a glass of the spring water. When he returned, Frank had made himself comfortable on one of the room chairs. His bag was sitting next to the couch. Vince went to him, handing him his water. Frank to a long gulp and looked up at Vince.

“You know what the problem is with spring water?” he said

“What, Frank?”

“It doesn’t taste like anything. It’s like a blank piece of paper. I like my water with a little flavor.”

“You’ve lived too long in Jersey,” Vince chuckled out.

Frank gave his brief sardonic smile look that Vince loved so well.

Vince took a seat on the edge of the couch across from Frank and looked him in the eye.

“So Loccoco pulled you away from the job?”

Frank looked at Vince with a slight frown. “No,” He replied. “You pulled me away.”

“I’m curious,” Vince said. “What did Loccoco say to convince you to come?”

“Not a lot, “ Frank said slowly as he sat his water glass on a nearby table. “He told me that there was someone who needed to speak to me, someone I’d hadn’t seen in a long time; someone I may have thought was dead.”

“Anything else,” Vince asked.

Frank gave a brief puff laughter. “You know Loccoco can find you in the strangest places. He found me at the Shop and Save, in the produce aisle. “

“How did you know it was me?” Vince asked.

“Who else would Roger Loccoco tell me wasn’t dead that I would give a damn about… Mel Profitt?” Frank breathed out and sat back in the chair. “He told me that we were going to Belize… and to quote- unquote- shave the badger off my face.”

“Badger?” Vince laughed lightly.

Frank rolled his eyes beneath his wire frame glasses. “I may have grown a beard with some… gray streaks.”

“I can’t even imagine it,” Vince continued to chuckle.

“Well, you don’t need to,” Frank replied. “I took his advice.”

“I see,” Vince said and his hand move slightly, starting a motion to touch Frank’s smooth jaw. But he stopped the gesture in time. “Roger runs a no beard kind of household. Did Roger tell you anything else?”

“He told me where he found you. He told me you were ok and safe now,” Frank replied soberly.

“I found the bastard who snatched you,” Frank continued after a pause. “I would have done something real bad to him if someone hadn’t been there to talk me down from the bloodlust. I brought the bastard in. Unfortunately for him, he had a lot of friends in federal lock-up that did the job for me. He didn’t last four days. They scraped his remains off a yard floor drain,” Frank said.

Vince nodded in understanding. That kind of kill was never as satisfying in the long run. He had experienced it when he had found and brought to justice the man who had killed his brother Pete. The knowledge had left him feeling hollow. He had wanted to watch the bastard go on trial and face all those eyes as his crimes were read back to him. Vince wanted to see remorse if possible, or detest the sick animal if he had no remorse to show. He was robbed of that last chance to spit in the bastards face.

“Vince…Vinnie, did they hurt you?”

Vince looked back up into Frank’s eyes. The answer to that question was like a book twice the length of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, at least in Vince’s mind. He did not know how to answer. And so he nodded.

Frank picked up his glass of water and took a long swallow. He put it back on the in table with a loud thump. “I should have just killed Guerrera myself.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Vince said softly.

“It would have given me time and a chance to get out of that fucker your location!” Frank exploded back at him, leaning forward in his seat. “Don’t tell me it wouldn’t have changed anything! It could have changed everything! ”

“You would have gone to jail, Frank,” Vince said sternly.

“And you would have been home months ago!” Frank raged.

“Frank! I made the mistakes!” Vince shouted back at him. “I’m the one who stupidly started an investigation without securing back up. I was the one who didn’t let the lifeguard or any other person in the OCB know what I was up to. I was the one who underestimated a fucking banana public’s reach beyond its own fucking boarders. “ Vince stopped suddenly as he remember where Frank had been when this had all began. Tears sprang to his eyes again but he didn’t let them fall. He looked down at his hands, not wanting Frank to see those tears shining unshed in his eyes. “All you did was what you were supposed to do, recover… get better, so you could do your job again.”

Vince put his hand to his forehead to rub the tension back and then pushed his long hair back from his face. He took a deep breath in an attempt to contain the senseless need that consumed him. “Killing pieces of shit like Guerrera… That’s not you, Frank.”

“Who do you think I am?” Frank asked simply.

“Perfect,” Vince whispered.

“I told you a long time ago, I’m not perfect,” Frank replied.

“I never believed you. I still don’t,” Vince admitted. Vince then smiled slightly and looked up with clear eyes. “Guy’s gotta have some heroes.”

Frank sighed with weary bemusement. He leaned his head against his right fist, his elbow propped on the chair’s arm. “Fuck you Terranova,” he said. “Now I’ve got to live up to some superhuman delusion you have of me? Even knowing full well that you are my kryptonite?”

Vince looked him in the eyes, startled by this admission, but cautious of its full meaning.

“Who do you really think I am,” Frank asked softly.

Vince decided to answer as truthfully as he could dare. “You are Francis Xavier McPike, my teacher, my partner, my best friend, my reality check, my protector… and the human being I love with all my heart and soul.”

Vince exhaled. He had said it all; there was nothing else to say. He watched as Frank regarded him for a few heart beats longer than was comfortable. Vince was sure he was about to feel a gentle rejection wrap itself around his battered spirit. Instead, Frank got up and repositioned himself on the couch next to Vince. Vince cautiously watched him move. Frank sat next to him, close but not touching, his eyes locked to Vince’s.

It was then that he realized that Frank’s eyes, behind his glasses, were the same heartbreaking blue as the sky had been on this island when he arrived. Was it any wonder that the sky had moved him so much?

“That took balls, Terranova,” Frank said softly. “But you’ve always been the most courageous stupid-fuck I’ve ever known.”

Frank’s right hand reached out tenderly and cupped Vincent’s left cheek. It was a reflex that made Vince sigh, close his eyes and push into that tender touch.

“My Kryptonite,” Frank whispered.

Vince’s eyes opened when he realized that Frank was moving forward. They slid shut again as he felt Frank’s lips touch his own lightly. This was the touch he craved, the kiss he wanted, and Vince was ready to surrender to it. His lips opened to the gentle pressure of Frank’s. When he felt Frank’s tongue gently move across his lower lip, Vince eagerly opened his mouth wider, inviting Frank in. Their tongues dance in passion within that sweet kiss.

This was the returned kiss that Roger had wanted from Vince. It was the kiss that bared his soul and marked his territory. It was deeper than the embrace that Vince had first felt himself slipping into his completeness. It was sweeter and more succinct than any words either of them could use. Vince was lost in that kiss, but he really didn’t care. He wanted to be lost in that kiss. This was the kiss he heart had hungered after for so very long.

Instinctually he reached for Frank. Vince’s hand wrapped itself about the back of his neck and pulled Frank deeper in. He felt Frank’s other hand tenderly pushing hair back from Vince’s face. Frank’s fingers combed themselves in to his long hair. The kiss deepened even more as they pulled themselves closer together. Vince’s other hand rested on Frank’s shoulder, feeling the soft polyester blend of Frank’s off-the-rack suit. It was what Frank could afford on his salary, but he made them look good.

The kiss ended but they stayed together, face against face, lips lightly against lips. Vince panted in need, His eyes, half lidded.

“What am I gonna do with you,” Frank whisper softly. It was more a breath of a prayer brushing across Vince’s lips. Frank’s thumb moved in a tender caress against his cheek. He tenderly nuzzled a kiss to the side of Vince’s mouth, and then backed up off of him a little more.

Vince had an answer to that rhetorical question. More than anything he wanted to tell Frank that he could hold him and never let go ever again. He could lay claim to him body and soul. Vince was ready. He wanted to be Frank’s possession.

Vince did not say a word. He only looked into Frank’s eyes, willing Frank to understand what it was that he was thinking and feeling.

“Do you know, what I was willing to give to find you,” Frank said in a broken whisper. “I just let it go for some reason.”

Frank let go of Vince and pulled away. He stood, taking a few steps away from the couch, his back to Vince. His hands came up, grabbing both sides of his head like a man trying to hold it together and keep his spiraling feelings contained. Frank gave out a short soft groan.

Vince stood too but did not approach. “Frank…” His voice was a soft entreat. Still cautious, Vince did not dare move towards Frank. But his hands ached to touch him, grab him, and pull him back to that first embrace.

Frank’s hands dropped to his sides and his head turned slightly so that Vince could see his profile. Frank looked tired, more so than his usual brand of tired. This wasn’t the sardonic and exasperated tired look he would often give when Vince was giving him grief in some form or other. This look was as deep as the look Frank had had when he told Vince that Jenny was dying. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the same. Frank looked lost. Vince knew that only he could guide him back. But he would have to be very careful. Frank’s temper had a hair trigger at times like these.

“You’re still my hero,” Vince said softly.

Frank sighed softly. “That distinction belongs to Roger Loccoco.”

Vince took one single step towards Frank. “You know what Roger told me? He said he knew others who would have done the same and come for me. He knew one of them was you. Damn it, Frank, why do you think he brought you here.”

Vince took one more cautious step. “He could have just dropped me off on my mother’s front lawn in Boca Raton. He didn’t because he knew…”

Frank turn towards him and took the last step that brought them back together, inches from each other. He reached out and took Vince’s hands into his and looked up into his eyes.

“Why you gotta make things so complicated?” Vince whispered.

Frank breathed out looking thoughtful. “Because I am Frank McPike, Vinnie.”

Frank leaned in and up and captured Vince’s lips again, tenderly and slowly. Vince leaned into the touch as well, kissing him back once again as fully as he could. Frank let go of his hands and cupped Vince’s face in both his own. Vince’s hands traveled up Frank’s chest, taking hold of his tie. He carefully undid it and slipped from around Frank’s collar. The tie was tossed back towards the couch. Vince immediately got to work on the buttons of Frank’s clean white shirt. They only got halfway down the line when Frank released the kiss and looked up at Vince.

“It’s hard to believe that someone like you could possibly want someone like me,” Frank’s said in soft, breathless voice.

“I do,” Vince replied. “I really do. I have for a long time.” This time Vince reached for Frank, grabbing him by the shoulders. He brought his mouth back to that searing sweet kiss. This time their bodies pressed together as Frank cupped the back of Vince’s neck. His other arm wrapped about Vince’s waist to pull him close.

Vince pressed his thickening cock against Frank, grinding slowly against his hip. He wanted Frank to feel how much he wanted him. Frank reacted to that motion by kissing Vince harder and more hungrily. His hand sunk into Vince’s long hair again. He nipped lightly at Vince’s lower lip and gave a low growl. His kissing and nipping moved down to Vince’s chin and jaw. Vince tipped his head back to give frank better access when he felt him suck on the flesh at his pulse point.

“Fuck yeah!” Vince whispered. Frank was going to mark him and Vince wanted to be marked.

Frank nipped the flesh there one last time then pulled back to look at Vince. “This place have a bed?” he asked huskily.

Vince looked down on him, breathless with need. His mind finally caught up with what Frank was suggesting, and Vince took Frank by the hand. He led him quickly to the bedroom he had been using since his arrival on the island.

Frank looked around the room with its wide open deck window with the sea breeze that stirred the white linen curtains. He looked at the clean, pale blue sheeted bed with a soft cream colored comforter folded at its foot.

“This will do,” he said simply. But Vince wasn’t paying attention.

Vince was back at unbuttoning Frank’s shirt, as determined as a kid on Christmas day trying to unwrap a long awaited present.

“Easy, Vince,” Frank said lightly when Vince nearly popped a button from his shirt. He took hold of Vince’s hands for a moment. They looked into each other’s eyes again.

“Let me help you,” Frank said as he caressed Vince’s cheek again. He then shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it drop. He then untucked his shirt from his pants and finished the buttons.

“You planning on showing some skin,” Frank asked bluntly.

Vince took a couple of sobering breaths and then yanked off his own shirt. He watched Frank drop his dress shirt and then pull off his undershirt.

“Well?” Frank said as he ran a hand over Vince’s bare chest. Vince took hold of that hand and held it to his beating heart.

“Well?” Vince asked in turn.

Frank took a moment to feel the heartbeat under his hand. He then looked Vince in the eyes again. No words were needed. It passed between them in their gaze. Nothing, no one, no excuse would stand between them now.

Frank hooked a finger into the belt of Vince’s loose comfortable pants and pulled him toward the bed. Just at the bed side Frank stopped to take a good long look at Vince. His hand ran over Vince’s chest lightly and his fingers curled about Vince’s hip. Vince knew he was being assessed.

“You lost some weight,” Frank said softly.

“Being held prisoner can do that to you, sometimes,” Vince replied. He had to be careful. He knew that Frank wasn’t ready yet to hear about the times he was starved and beaten. And although the marks of his ordeal were there to be read on his flesh, he wanted to keep Frank away from that darkness. That place would only make him spiral back into the guilt and self-loathing Vince had already glimpsed earlier.

Vince unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants and boxer shorts like a leap of faith. Now Frank could read his whole body. Nevertheless, Vince hoped that Frank would only read the message being sent by the solid, aching flesh between his legs, lifting, lengthening and tightening with each heartbeat.

Frank took him all in in one sweeping gaze. With deep sigh, Frank let is hand do a slow caress of Vince’s cheek, moving downward over his neck, his thumb tracing the line of his chin to his adam’s apple. His hand then swept the plain of his left pectoral, fingertips stroking lightly on his nipple.

“Lay down, Vinnie,” Frank directed.

Vince did as he was instructed, stretching back on top of the sheets, his body displayed before Frank. He looked up at him, his breath coming deeper with arousal. He watched Frank unbuckle his own belt and unzip his pants. Frank strip quickly so that Vince could see he was not alone in arousal.

Vince had made fun of Frank back in the day for being shorter and lighter than him, but Vince knew Frank was a well-made man with very little body fat and muscle enough to kick serious ass and take names. Frank had the kind of hairy chest Vince thought all men should have, not to thick and not too thin with a clear “goody trail” leading down to his belly button and beyond where the goodies were located. Right now, the goodies were looking especially good. Vince swallowed heavily. His mouth was beginning to water as he watched Frank’s erection.

Frank sat down next to Vince. One of his hands took up that slow stroke of his body again. This time, Frank let his hand brush lightly over Vince’s erection. Vince took a shuttering deep breath as he felt that sweet contact. Frank’s hands were on him but Vince wanted so much more. Nevertheless, Vince held still and let Frank explore. Vince watched Frank and he knew Frank could see the hunger in his gaze. Frank’s hand cupped his balls. Vince’s head fell back against the bed as he bit his lip to keep from moaning like a horny tom cat.

“Move over,” Frank said softly, as he took his hand from Vince. Vince complied, shifting over towards the middle of the bed to give Frank room. Frank threw his glasses to the bed side table and stretched out next to him, turned to him and pulled him into his embrace. He kissed Vince once more with slow tender passion. His leg hooked about one of Vince’s and his hot hardness was pressed to Vince’s hip.

Vince had not really known what to expect from Frank. He knew what he had wanted from him. Vince knew how sex with a man worked, thank you very little Newark State Penitentiary. Vince had survived it until he learned to how to deal with it. In the end he had learned how to find pleasure and actually crave it. Who was giving made a lot of difference. That and the fact he was consenting.

The idea of doing that, opening his body to someone he actually loved was more than desirable. But Vince recognized that Frank had different needs. Frank’s hand found Vince’s erection again. This time it wrapped about it and began to stoke. Frank let his kisses trail down to Vince’s neck again.

“Come on, baby,” Frank whispered against the skin of Vince’s jaw, just below his ear. “Come for me. I want to see that. I want it.”

Frank’s thumb found Vince’s pre-cum at his tip and took it, smoothing it over his cock head and running it along his shaft. Frank’s fingertips did a slow tease up his length and ended with a tender rub against his glans. Vince’s breath caught and he trembled beneath that touch.

Then Frank was stroking him again in a building rhythm. Frank’s own cock was pressed to Vince’s hip, and Frank was humping him firmly. The hot silky flesh of Frank’s erection slipped against the skin of Vince’s hip and belly. Vince reached for Frank’s face, making him look back up into his eyes. Their faces so close that they shared breath. Vince kissed his lips lightly.

“I want you too, Frank,” he pleaded.

“I know, baby,” Frank whispered back against his lips. Frank kissed him back tenderly. “I promise, I’m all yours… Just let me touch you now.”

“I love you,” Vince said in whispered whimper. Their faces stayed together, not kissing but still sharing breath.

“Shhh,” Frank soothed. “I love you too, my beautiful baby… so fucking beautiful…”

Vince’s legs spread wider in surrender and supplication. The orgasm was building and he could feel it, just below his balls. It was a squeezing and a tightening, a coiled spring ready to erupt. His legs were trembling and his breath came out in ragged puffs. He held on to Frank’s gaze like a life line.

Frank’s lips brushed kisses against him mouth and he murmured gently to Vince between those kisses. “Show me, Vinnie,” he whispered. “Show me how beautiful you are when you cum.”

One more kiss and then the words that tipped Vince over the edge. “I wanna spend the rest of my life making you cum… I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

Vince’s head fell back on the bed and his eyes squeezed shut as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms he had ever had in his life. He shouted Frank’s name as he felt his ball pull up tight. His cock began to throb, pushing powerful streams of cum from its tip. Sparks exploded behind his tightly closed eyelids and he felt his own cum strike up his chest, to his neck to his own chin. He was shivering, barely in control in the throes of the aftermath when he heard Frank growl ferociously against him and bite down on his shoulder hard enough to hurt. Vince felt wetness gathering between their bodies at his hip.

Winner-winner chicken diner, Vince thought. His eyes opened to the bright and airy room. The smell of sex was thick in the lightly sea breeze cooled air. Frank and he were both out of breath. Vince smiled a little when he considered that Frank may have given him his daily cardio workout.

“What’s for eats in this joint?” Vince heard Frank ask.

Vince turned his head to look at Frank. His smile broadened when he meant Frank’s eyes. Frank had that normal banal, matter-of-fact face look on that was his trade mark. He did not look at all like a man who had just enthusiastically jerked the cum out of another man. He looked like Frank McPike, cynical and very pragmatic. Vince knew better. He reached and ran a hand down Frank’s chest to his belly.

“You are such a brat,” Vince’s said softly.

“A man builds up an appetite. Go ahead and tell me you’re not hungry,” Frank challenged.

“Just for more of you,” Vince said putting a playful growl in his tone.

“Bullshit.” With that single word Frank had made his argument invalid.

Vince laughed. His head fell back on the bed again and he laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart had felt so light. When he looked up again he found Frank propped on an elbow looking down on him.

“What are you looking at?” Vince asked playfully.

“You got cum on your chin,” Frank answered matter-of-factly.

“Fuck you, McPike,” Vince laughed again. “Look at your hand!”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he replied as he lifted his hand to examine the thick pool of cum that rested on the back of his hand, just above his thumb and fore finger. “And I should warn you, Vince, don’t look between us.”

“What a mess,” Vince replied through more laughter.

“Yeah, but it was fun getting there,” Frank admitted. He then leaned to Vince and kissed the spot of cum from his chin. Then Frank rolled off the bed and stood looking around the room. “Bathroom?”

Vince pointed to the door. Frank moved off with purpose. Vince half expected to hear the shower next, but he didn’t. He did hear the faucet turn on for a time. Vince Laid there on the bed, the cum cooling on his skin. He put his hands behind his head and just felt purely happy. It was a gorgeous feeling. It was an amazing feeling. And in that tropical breeze filled room, Vince whole world seemed full of light and laughter again. Maybe Roger had created heaven on earth. It just needed a key ingredient, someone you love with your whole being.

Frank came out of the bathroom holding a hand towel. A bath towel was draped over his left shoulder.

“Come here, you filthy ape,” he said as he sat down next to Vince on the bed. The hand towel was wet and warm. Frank began to tenderly clean Vince with it.

“I thought you’d take a shower,” Vince said.

“Naw,” Frank replied. “I plan to get messy some more with you. Might as well wait. Besides, there is a big fancy tub in there. That looks like fun for later on.”

Vince smiled big when he thought about what Frank thought “fun” would be like in that tub.

“I missed that smile,” Frank said. He wiped the last of the cum away from Vince’s hip and then dried him gently with the towel. He then dropped the towels to the floor and bent to reach for his discarded clothing.

“Now get up, Vinnie,” He said as he lifted his pants from the floor from where they had fallen next to the bed. “I’m starving.”

“Starving?” Vince chuckled.

Frank shrugged. “I skipped breakfast.”

“The most important meal of the day?” Vince said as he sat up and positioned himself to sit next to Frank. “What are you doing, Frank?” Vince said as he grabbed the pants out of Frank’s hands.

“I’m not putting my sweaty bare ass down on Roger Loccoco’s clean white furniture,” he replied as he snatched the pants back from Vince.

“Hold on.” Vince stood and went to the bathroom. Hanging on the door inside was the clean white robe he had first been given when he had awoken in that room. On the top of the towel shelve there was another two ready for use. Vince grabbed his own and a fresh one.

“I already unwrapped this gift once,” Vince said as he tossed the clean robe at Frank.

“Very practical,” Frank replied as he unfolded the robe.

“Come on,” Vince said as he headed for the door while belting his own robe close. He looked back to see Frank putting on his glasses and wrapping himself in his fresh white robe. Vince led him to the kitchen.


	4. Paradise Regained

In the Kitchen, Frank opened the refrigerator immediately.

“This I can work with,” he said as he began to take out deli packages and condiments. “We are having turkey clubs,” he announced. “Now sit right down and behold a master sandwich maker at work.”

“A master?” Vince said as he took a seat on one of the kitchen’s center island stools. “One of your many talents?”

“Oh I am nothing if not versatile,” Frank replied. “I majored in criminal justice in college, minored in public safety and worked in a sub shop on campus to pay for it all.”

“I worked in a pizza shop,” Vince said.

“Predictable.”

“I could make you an awesome calzone.”

“This isn’t a competition, Vinnie,” Frank replied flatly as he continued to build the turkey clubs.

Vince laughed again, and he had to wonder if he had ever laughed so much in his life. But he just felt so good, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The lingering aches and pains of his abuse were place aside as a non-consideration. Vince was too busy being in love to be concerned about the herniated disk in his back, a by-product of his fractured vertebrae. He just watched his master sandwich maker at work.

In moments a turkey club with mayo, tomato, and lettuce on toasted bread was sat before him.

“Balance is the key,” Frank said. “Don’t let one meat overwhelm another. “

Vince had to admit, the sandwich was truly good. He ate his sandwich as he watched Frank meticulously clean up his mess. Only once the food was put away and the utensils were rinsed and set aside for wash did Frank pick up his own sandwich and eat.

“You said you missed my smile?” Vince asked.

“Every single fucking day of the week that ended with a ‘Y’,” Frank replied.

“I thought about you a lot too,” Vince admitted. “How is Drake?”

Frank smiled. “He’s good. He’s amazing.” Frank took a deep breath and he seemed to visibly relax more as he thought of his son. “He was accepted to Mannes College School of music on a substantial scholarship. He has a dream, Vinnie. He wants to play for the Boston Philharmonic.”

“That’s awesome,” Vince said.

“Jenny and I breathed the biggest sigh of relief a parent could breathe,” Frank added. “Never has a man been so proud to see his son not follow in his old man’s footsteps. He starts this fall.”

“Jenny is getting re-married,” Frank continued after a few more bites of his sandwich. “She fell for the business manager for her catering service. Smart guy, makes good money, Drake doesn’t have a problem with him…”

Vince felt his own face fall into a skeptical scowl. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing, I told you.”

“Frank?”

“He’s a good guy, Vince.”

“Frank!”

“Ok,” Frank relented. “His name is… Frank.”

“You are shitting me,” Vince chuckled in surprise and amusement.

“Franklin James Millner,” Frank explained.

“F. M. No need to change the monograms on the robes and towels,” Vince chortled.

“Yeah, very funny.”

“Ok,” Vince conceded with a wave of his hand and pulled his laughter back in. “What about Magic Mike McPike?”

Frank put his sandwich down and took a deep breath. Vince instantly sobered when he saw Frank’s look.

“Mike McPike… The invincible Mike McPike succumbed to complications from Alzheimer around six months ago.”

“I’m so sorry Frank,” Vince said.

“He always liked you,” Frank said. “He’d ask about you when we would visit… Talk about the time you and he beat the snot out of some rednecks in a titty barroom brawl. Couldn’t recognize his own grandson when he saw him, but he remembered my hoodlum friend Vinnie.”

“Frank…” Vince said gently.

“Don’t be apologetic,” Frank said. “You gave him a good memory. He carried that for as long as he could.”

Frank got up from his seat at the counter and went to the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?” he asked.

“Yeah, give me a spring water,” Vince replied.

Frank came back with two spring waters. “It’s a pretty amusing story, the way he used to tell it… and it got more lewd at each telling. Scandalized Jenny with it once and made me and Drake double over with belly laughs.”

“How’s life at the OCB?” Vince asked taking up one of the waters.

“There is no OCB anymore,” Frank answered flatly. “Government got tired of paying for all the alphabet soup in the justice department, especially since we started tripping over each other’s jurisdiction. The OCB was the smallest and the least funded. We got absorbed. Some got tapped for the DEA, a few for the ATF. The rest of us are just plan ol’ FBI. At least we didn’t lose our pension.”

“Whoa,” Vince exclaimed softly.

“Yeah, Surprise, but it’s not a surprise.”

Vince stood and went to Frank. Frank turned himself on his stool to face Vince. Vince took the tie to Franks robe and undid it, letting it fall open. He then undid his own robe and let it fall from his shoulders. Vince’s hands went to Frank’s shoulders as he stepped between his knees. He ran his hands down over Frank’s chest, his fingers lingering over the scar of Kousakis’ bullet.

“I need you,” Vince murmured.

Frank sighed heavily. His arms wrapped about Vince’s waist and he laid his head on Vince’s chest. Vince placed a hand to his head, pressing him close to his heart.

“It’s been hard, Vinnie,” he said. “Without you, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Even when I snapped at someone it didn’t feel sincere.”

“Did they give you a new partner?”

“Michael Santana.”

“Wait, what? The lawyer?” Vince pulled back a bit to look down at Frank.

“Ex-lawyer… Disbarred…,” Frank said as he snuggled back into Vince’s embrace. “Long story I’d rather not go into.”

Vince kissed Frank’s head on the bald spot. “Wanna go back to bed?”

“So you can have your wicked way with me,” Frank said against his belly.

“I suppose so,” Vince chuckled. “I was actually thinking of cuddling.”

Frank looked at Vince in that genuinely Frank McPike bemused way. “Men don’t cuddle, Vince. Men fuck.”

Vince smiled broader. “Ok, truth then? I was going to see how hard your night stick could get, slap a raincoat on it, slick it down, and then sit on it and wiggle.”

Frank looked thoughtful. “That’s a good plan,” he said banally. But Vince knew better as he felt throbbing heated flesh hardening against his thigh. Certain parts of Frank’s anatomy thought it was an excellent plan.

Vince pulled away from him and took one of his hands. “Come on, you brat.”

He pulled Frank back into the bedroom. Once there he pushed the robe off of him. “Wait here,” he said as he leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Ok,” Frank replied defenselessly.

Vince went to Roger’s room and hoped that for once in his life Roger would be obvious. He opened the drawer of the bedside table that had the most objects on it. Vince smiled when he discovered he was correct. He took what he needed and practically skipped back to his room.

He found Frank had made himself comfortable on the bed, lying on his back and his hands behind his head. His glasses were off and on the night stand next to the bed. Vince’s smile became predatory when he saw him display before him. The erection that had made Vince’s mouth water only earlier that morning was making a second appearance.

Vince sat on the bed next to Frank and displayed his finds. First he held up strip of three packaged condoms. “Raincoat!” he said.

He then held up a tube of K-Y jelly “Slippin’ slide!” Vince giggled as he pulled one of the condoms packs free and opened the wrap.

“You’re unbelievable,” Frank said wryly as he watched him.

Vince leaned forward and kissed Frank, playfully nipping at his lower lip. He then nuzzled the side of Frank’s face.

“Why,” Vince asked softly against his ear. “Because I want to be your personal fuck-toy?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Frank replied.

Vince laughed again. He then laid a trail of kissed down to Frank’s chest, letting his tongue flick over a nipple. He then nuzzled his way into Frank’s armpit and took a good solid swipe of it with his tongue.

“Old Spice? Blah! Really, Frank?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to sweat it all off,” Frank replied.

“We’ll work on that now,” Vince replied with a wolfish smile as he pushed himself upright. Vince took Frank’s cock in his hand and gave it a few firm strokes. He looked down at the handsome, swollen length and licked his lips. “What the hell,” he sighed in resignation and lowered down to take a taste.

His tongue licked the small drop of pre-cum just starting to leak from the tip. Vince heard Frank make a shuttering exhale. He watched the muscles of his hip flex and quiver. With a soft hum, Vince took Frank’s cock completely in his mouth, swallowing him down and pulling back until his mouth only held the head. He did this for a few more times, tasting Frank’s salty sweet pre-cum. The smell of Frank’s musk was heavier near the hair that surrounded cock and balls. Vince drank it in.

Vince stopped himself. Frank was intoxicating. Given the chance, Vince would suck him to completion. But that was not what Vince wanted today. Vince took the condom still in his hand and check to make sure he had it the right way. He then reached for Frank’s erection again, this time rolling the condom into place from tip to base. He then took the lubricant, slowly warming it in his hands; he smoothed it over Frank’s erection. Rain coat… Check. Slicked… Check. Frank was ready.

Vince knew what he wanted to do. He went to the foot of the bed, focused and ready. He climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees. He climbed up to Frank like a feral sex animal, wanting and ready. He watched Frank watch him. Frank’s breath was coming out in deep shuttering gasps, his eyes watching with incredulous need.

Vince ran his tongue from Frank’s naval to his collar bone, keeping his eyes on Frank’s.

 _Bet Jenny never came to you like this_ , he thought. _She may have loved you, but I bet she never wanted you… not like I want you!_

Vince rose up on his knees and reached behind himself, still keeping eye contact with Frank. He positioned Frank’s cock against his entrance. Vince took a deep breath and on his exhale, he pushed the head of Frank’s cock home inside of him. Vince held still for a moment, adjusting his body to the fullness and relaxing his muscles so he could take more. With another deep breath, he slid himself down onto Frank’s erection.

Frank gasped and his hips convulsed slightly. The muscles of his thighs shivered harder. Vince knew Frank was working overtime to hold his body’s instincts in check. Vince never lost eye contact with him. He saw the sweet moment of crazed need flicker across his blue eyes, but Frank was good, Vince knew.

Sit on it… Check.

Vince reached for Frank, running his fingers through the hair on his chest. Still looking him in the eyes, he mouthed the words, “I love you.” Then Vince began to move.

Wiggle… Check and double check.

Vince started easy and slow. He continued to run his hands across Frank’s chest. Franks hands came to Vince’s hips, holding him and guiding as he moved on his cock.

“Vinnie…” Frank whispered.

Vince came to him, lowering his mouth to Frank’s. He caught him in a deep, intoxicating kiss, their tongues mimicking the rhythm of their love making. Vince cradled Frank’s face in his hands. One of Frank’s hands came up to push the hair back from Vince’s face. He held it back, cupping his hand on the back of Vince’s head. Frank’s other arm wrapped itself around Vince’s waist pulling him in tight.

Frank held Vince still and took over the motion, thrusting his hips up. Their pace quickened. Vince was taken by surprise when Frank, with one powerful push off, sent them rolling on the bed. Now Vince was on his back and Frank was over him. Frank looked down at Vince, examining what lay before him. He then hooked his arms under Vince’s knees, holding him open.

Now Frank was in control. He looked down into Vince’s eyes as he began to thrust, starting slow and easy again.

“Oh Vinnie!” Frank said like a prayer.

Vince reached for Frank’s face again wanting to just touch him and feel that he was real. His half hard cock getting harder with each of Frank’s thrust. Vince ran his hands down to Frank’s chest again and tweaked his nipples lightly. His thumbs rolled the pebbled peaks all the while; Vince kept his eyes on Frank’s willing him to look at him and at him alone. Frank’s pace quickened.

“Go on, Vinnie, touch yourself,” Frank whispered.

Vince obeyed. Looking deeply in Frank’s eyes, Vince stroked his own erection faster and faster feeling the orgasm mounting just behind his balls and up against were Frank’s cock hit home with each thrust. This orgasm threatened to be a monster, even after the intense orgasm he had had that morning.

It took Vince by surprise and his eyes squeezed shut as he lost control. His body shuttered to the rhythm of his pulsing cock trying to shoot what little cum was left in his body across his belly.

Then Vince heard Frank roar. The sound was loud and feral, and Vince opened his eyes to watch Frank. Frank’s hips slammed into Vince and he held himself tight up against him, his thighs trembling with the effort.

Vince could feel Frank’s cock throbbing inside him. Frank’s body shuttered a few more times and then with a large exhale, he relaxed as if someone had flipped a switch. Frank held still for a moment longer, his head drooping and his eyes half lidded. He caught his breath.

Slowly and carefully, Frank pulled himself out of Vince. He then carefully released Vince’s thighs, but that motion was the one thing that made Vince flinch and hiss in pain. It was his back, his herniated disk.

“Baby?” Frank asked softly. He lay down on his side next to Vince and tenderly brushed back the hair from his face.

Vince smiled as he saw the loving look of concern in Frank’s eyes. “It’s okay, Frank,” he replied.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No… its…” Vince didn’t know quite how to put it without bring back the reality of his ordeal to this sanctuary. This room was where light and love existed. He didn’t want to bring the darkness and despair here. But as he looked in Frank’s eyes he knew that love that filled him now could also heal him if he let it.

“There were guards at the camp I was being held at,” he said softy. “Who thought it was there duty to beat me senseless at least twice a week… I never knew when it was coming, or what would trigger it. I think they just need to blow off steam.

“They broke bones. Then they’d let me heal a little; Sometimes not. Then, this one time, they went too far. They fractured two vertebrae just below the base of my neck.”

“Vinnie!” Frank whispered.

“I got lucky,” Vince continued. “The doctor they had there was good. Knew what was wrong immediately and knew how to deal with it. I spent three excruciating weeks strapped to a backboard. The doctor took care of me personally. His name was Miguel. He didn’t have painkillers strong enough to deal with the torture I was in, and he apologized about it a lot. I would have been paralyzed if it hadn’t been for him.”

Frank kissed him again, tenderly. His thumb caressed Vince’s cheek. “Never gonna let anyone hurt you again,” Frank said. “I promise, Vinnie.”

Vince caressed Frank’s face as well as they kissed again. These kisses were gentle and loving and slow. Vince had never felt so adored in his life. And, at the moment, he never felt more in love with any one human being.

“Il mio amore,” Vince whispered.

Frank rolled away for a moment, reaching down to the floor beside the bed. He found the body towel he had used earlier to clean them. He then removed the spent condom from his soft cock and wiped it clean. Turning to Vince, Frank lowered himself to Vince’s belly and began to lick him clean of the cum he had emitted. Frank finished by licking the head of Vince’s cock carefully, fully aware of how over sensitive he was after his orgasm. Vince shivered under his ministrations, nevertheless. Frank finished by tenderly wiping Vince up with the towel as well.

Frank then stretch himself beside Vince again. He wrapped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly a few more times. Frank settled Vince against his chest with a sigh and snuggled him warmly.

 _“Men don’t cuddle, Vince. Men fuck.”_ Frank had said.

But after the fucking, comes the cuddling, Vince thought as he snuggled against Frank’s chest happily. They napped for the rest of the afternoon.

***

Vince dreamed of how Frank tasted of his own cum when they kissed. He woke up snuggled against Frank’s skin, breathing in his sweat and musk. He hungered for another taste. Frank was smoothing his hair back tenderly.

“Hey, baby boy,” Frank whispered.

It was sunset. The sea breeze was still lifting the curtains. Frank called him “baby boy,” which told Vince that Frank knew exactly who he was holding in his arms. Vince knew he wasn’t a replacement for Jenny. This endearment was meant for him alone.

Frank was looking down on him with a small satisfied smile. It was possibly the most sincere smile Vince had ever seen on Frank’s face. Frank’s hand moved from stoking his hair to softly fingering Vince’s belly button.

“You hungry,” Frank asked.

“You think with your stomach?” Vince asked.

“Just thinking of your belly, Vinnie.”

“I see what you wanna do here,” Vince chuckled. “Make me fat and sassy so no one else will want me?”

Frank laughed, and Vince thought he had never heard such a marvelous sound in his life.

“I just want you better,” Frank replied. “You’re skin and bones.” Frank leaned in for another sweet full kiss. He then looked down on Vince adoringly. “I love you, Vince,” Frank whispered.

Vince’s heart swelled at the sound of that declaration. He had heard those words from others, but never before has that phrase made his heart dance in his chest like it was dancing now. He reached up and caressed Frank’s face.

“I love you, Frank,” he replied, breathing the words out from the very bottom of his soul.

Frank kissed him tenderly one more time. “Ok, let’s get you something to eat,” he said.

***

In the Kitchen again, wrapped in their bath robes, Vince watched Frank as he explored the fare available.

“Look, Spaghettios,” Frank said as he examined the can foods in the pantry.

“An abomination,” Vince declared.

“When I was a kid, this was one of my major four food groups, along with mac-n-cheese, buttered noodles and cheese pizza.” Frank picked up the can.

“Don’t you dare, Frank,” Vince warned. “You eat that shit and I will refuse to kiss you for a week!”

Frank put the can back. “Can’t have that,” he said as he looked back at Vince from over his wire frame glasses. Frank then turned his attention to the refrigerator. “How about an omelet?”

“You gonna make me an omelet?” Vince chuckled.

“Don’t laugh. My mother did not raise a fool. One of her many life lessons she gave me was how to not poison myself in the kitchen.” Frank removed the fresh eggs from the refrigerator.

“We don’t have any milk,” Vince pointed out.

“A real omelet doesn’t need milk,” Frank replied. Next he pulled out butter and a block of cheddar cheese. “The deli ham wouldn’t be my first choice but it’s convenient.”

Vince watched as Frank found a pan, a bowl and utensils. He whisked the eggs in a bowl with only a fork and added salt and pepper. Then using only the butter to coat the frying pan he prepared the first omelet. The ham slice was shredded and place inside the second fold. The whole thing was rolled neatly to a clean plate and then generous portion of cheddar cheese was grated directly to the top. He sat it before Vince with a clean fork.

“Mangia,” Frank said dead pan.

Vince lifted the fork and gave the omelet a try. “This… This is really good.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frank said as he went back to the pan to turn up the heat and melt more butter. “You know throughout our marriage, Jenny loathed cooking. She barely step foot in the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when she suddenly discover after leaving me that she was fairly good at it.”

“Did you share the cooking?” Vince asked.

Frank chuffed out a laugh. “I only cooked when I could get home on time. But yeah, I cooked. You know, she stole a lot of my recipes.”

Vince watched him as he prepared the second omelet, his heart swelling in love and admiration. Vince suddenly had a warm and wonderful dream. They would go home and open a restaurant together, nothing too fancy, just breakfast, lunch, and dinner, hoagies, some pasta, and some chef’s specials. Vince wondered if they could do it; if they could make it together that way. It wouldn’t be easy.

He could never tell his mother that he and Frank were together. She would never understand. Vince didn’t think she would disown him or anything like that. He just feared breaking her heart. She had wanted Vince to find the right girl and give her grandchildren to love and make a fuss over. How would he tell her that there would never be a “right girl.”

Frank had had a “right girl” once, and Vince had to wonder when did Frank give in to the temptation of homoeroticism. The fact that Frank was with him now and loving him seemed like a miracle. Vince wondered when he would wake up to find himself still alone in Roger’s island villa… or worse, still imprisoned in a Central American tropical rainforest camp.

“What’s wrong?”

Frank’s question half woke him from the trance of his own thoughts. He realized he had stopped eating and he had not even made it halfway through his omelet. Frank on the other hand had at least three bites to go on the one he had prepared for himself.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Vince said as he picked up his fork again.

“Talk to me, Vince,” Frank said as he reached over and touched Vince’s free hand on the countertop.

Vince gave a little sigh as he took Frank’s hand on his own. “I don’t know, Frank,” He said softly as he looked at their joined hands. “I know it’s stupid. I feel like this could all just evaporate. It would just be another damn fever dream… Had plenty of those...”

“I’m here, Vince. I’m real and I love you.”

“I’m so afraid,” Vince whispered. “It stupid as shit, but I’m afraid.” He looked up into Frank’s eyes. “You had a wife… a son… Why me? Why now… I’ve loved you for so long.”

Frank got up from his seat and came around the island counter to Vince. Once again, he cradled Vince’s face in his hands.

“I started falling in love with you,” he began softly, “the moment I first saw you… an Adonis with blue eyes and attitude. I didn’t want to but you made me, you fucking ass-hole. I let you hurt me, hoping it would cure me of it. It never did. You kept coming back. Then I’d love you just a little bit more.”

“Frank?” Vince whispered his entreat. Looking up at the man he loved so much.

“Then you had to love me back, didn’t you,” Frank said with gentle despair.

“I couldn’t help it,” Vince whispered.

Frank smiled and looked away for a moment. “Okay, Vinnie, let me tell you about Francis Xavier McPike. Remember when I told you about smoking pot in college?”

“Yeah,” Vince said.

“In that sub shop, I had a coworker named Lorenzo Maniaci. He had the connections. Every now and again, we would do what we called ‘a roach and a hummer.’ We’d get high by smoking a joint down to a roach and then explore our issues with oral fixation. You know why I got paranoid? I was afraid that Jenny would find out… smell it on me when I came home to visit… his sweat, his cum, the weed… I don’t know.

“Back then I didn’t realize how much I really wanted it… How much it was a part of me. I was just doing what my body craved. ”

“Lorenzo Maniaci, huh?” Vince smiled up at Frank. “You have a thing for Italians?”

“Yeah,” Frank replied. “I don’t know if it’s the nose or the uni-brow, but yeah something like that.”

Frank’s thumb caressed Vince’s cheek bone tenderly. “Baby boy,” he whispered and took another sweet soft kiss. “You need to eat.”

Vince simply smiled. He turned back to his forgotten omelet, picked up his fork and took another bite. It really was surprisingly good. The cheese had melted over the omelet perfectly and it was still somewhat hot in the center.

Frank went back to his seat on the other side of the kitchen Island counter. Vince was certain Frank was watching to see that he ate every bite. It didn’t matter. He got down to the last few bites and he was full.

“Vince!”

“I swear, Frank, I’m stuffed!”

Frank cleaned up after their dinner then took Vince into the great room. There they watched Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood on VHS, reclining back on one of Roger clean white sofas, Vince’s head on Frank’s chest and Frank’s legs wrapped about him. Vince never felt so at peace in his life. He listened to Frank’s heart beat and took comfort in the tangible love that existed just beneath his fingertips. Frank caressed him, stroking back his hair.

“These old movies,” Frank said “were morality lessons made simple; maybe too simple. This is where kids grew up believing that evil was evil and good was good, no in between, and no shades of gray. The bad guys have no redeeming qualities and the good guy is so good he only kills bad guys when they are just that bad.”

“He killed a deer,” Vince interjected.

“Naw, that was one of his sidekicks, and even he had good justification. The only thing Robin did with that deer was slap the bad guys around with it.”

“Well, that means that dudes family didn’t get to eat the deer,” Vince replied.

“I’m sure Robin gave him something else,” Frank rationalized.

They were quite, watching the movie for a while longer; Then Vince asked. “What are we going to do now, Frank?”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? Forever?” Frank asked in turn. “I know I need to eventually get you home and let Carlotta Terranova Aiuppo know that she didn’t out live both her sons.”

“Mom,” Vince whispered yearningly.

“We’ll get you home, Vinnie,” Frank kissed his head tenderly.

“And tonight?” Vince asked. He looked up at Frank.

“Tonight, I think we need a bath.”

***  
He let Frank wash his hair last night, once again feeling cherished and loved by a gentle touch. He couldn’t’ remember the last time he had felt that. In all his relationships in the past, he felt as if he had been so busy working to see to his lover’s experience that he never payed close enough attention to what he was getting from it all. The men in his life had not been relationships as much as friends with benefit. The women, the ones Vince gravitated toward were high maintenance.

But Frank’s hands loved, his lips worshiped. His words soothed. His arms embraced, and his eyes adored. After their bath, Frank laid Vince down, clean but drowsy, feeling bone deeply relaxed. Vince fell asleep with Frank spooned up against him.

Vince woke up to see Frank watching him sleep. Vince Blinked looking up at Frank who watched him as he rest, tenderly stroking back his hair yet again. It was morning.

“Hello, baby boy,” Frank said softly. “You know, when Jenny was under the knife she had an epiphany,” Frank said.

“You told me,” Vince replied.

“When I was laying there dying in a hospital in Seattle, I had one too,” Frank said. “I heard you calling me back, Vinnie. I heard the need in your voice. I heard the love in your voice. I had to come back to you.”

“You heard the bells… the bells I heard,” Vince whispered.

“I only know I heard you, Vinnie. I heard you calling me back,” Frank replied. “I had to come home to you…

“Vinnie, I need you,” Frank whispered. “I want to be with you. I want to make a home with you. I want to make a life with you. I want you forever.”

Frank caressed Vince’s face. “Vincent Michael Terranova, I love you and I want with all my heart to marry you.”

Vince reached up for Frank, Pulling him in to kiss. He kissed him deeply and hungrily. He had thought about the day he would have said those words to whoever the “right girl” would have been, but he had never dreamed he would hear those words spoken directly to him. Frank wanted him.

“I love you,” Vince declared after releasing Frank from his fierce kiss. He looked up into Frank’s loving gaze. “I want to be with you forever too. I want to share a home with you! I want to share my life with you!”

Frank took a deep shuttering breath and breathed out “Baby boy,” on the end of it. Frank leaned in and laid a soft kiss on Vince’s forehead. He then moved on to kiss the tip of his nose. He left a soft small kiss against his lips and moved on to kiss his chin. His hand tilted Vince’s head back to expose his neck, and Frank moved his kisses downward. Frank tenderly sucked Vince’s pulse point again, this time leaving a clear hickey. Frank examined his handy work for a moment and then continued downward. Nuzzling and kissing his way down Vince’s chest, he stopped to flick his tongue lightly over his left nipple.

He continued, kissing lightly over Vince’s abs, his tongue dipping into Vince’s belly button. He went further nuzzling against Vince’s thickening erection and placing licking kisses against the base and his balls. Frank ran his tongue up the length and Vince gasped involuntarily. Vince looked down in time to watch Frank take him in his mouth to the root.

“Oh Frank!” Vince cried out.

And in those moments Frank showed Vince exactly what he meant about having issues with an oral fixation. Frank took his time worshiping Vince with his mouth, running his tongue up center vein of his shaft and rolling his tongue about the glans. He took sucking kisses back down the length and then took one of Vince’s balls in his mouth to suckle tenderly. Vince was at his mercy, gasping and panting in need.

Frank bathe Vince’s balls with his tongue before he went back to work on his erection. And Vince was so hard, he was certain he could pound nails into concrete with his dick. When Frank deep throated him for a few stokes, Vince felt helpless and out of control. He was watching Frank with astonishment and wonder.

“Oh Christ! I’m coming Frank!” Vince cried out. He could not have stopped this orgasm if he tried. Tears sprang to his eyes as he cried out. Vince came and he came hard. He trembled as he felt Frank drinking him in. Frank didn’t let go until Vince was drained and done.

Vince fell back on the bed out of breath. He felt more than saw Frank stretch out beside him. Vince smiled, feeling better than he had ever felt in ages. He looked over at Frank who lay beside him looking satisfied. But Vince knew better. It was his turn to show Frank what an oral fixation really was.

“My turn,” Vince said as he rolled over to Frank, taking his arms and lifting them over his head. Vince started on Frank’s left underarm pit, licking, nuzzling and smelling. Vince didn’t know where he developed this kink, but he knew he loved it. There had been times in the past when he had briefly caught the scent of Frank’s sweat beneath the soaps and deodorants and his dick had twitched in his pants, coming awake with a forbidden desire. Now he had him down on the bed, undiluted Frank McPike, he nuzzled in drinking in the scent and mouthing the hair of his underarm.

“Mine,” Vince whispered as he rubbed his whole face over Frank’s pit. He wanted to wear Frank’s scent on his own skin, marking him as Frank’s possession. He ran his tongue up against the hairs over and over, taking Frank in with each taste. Vince then Kissed across Frank’s chest, stopping briefly at each nipple to suckle. At last he came to Frank’s right armpit, and he began his feast again.

“That has got to be the most erotic thing I’ve ever watched anyone do to me,” Frank said.

“Oh yeah,” Vince said smiling up into Frank’s gaze. “I’ve only just got started.”

Vince kissed Frank’s chest right on his heart. His lips lingered there until he could feel the beat beneath. He then laid a line of kisses and licks down the center of his chest moving from pectorals to abs. He took a moment to make love to his belly button with his tongue. He then licked his way down Frank’s goody trail to his erection.

“Have you ever done this to any one before?” He heard Frank ask breathlessly.

Vince lifted up to look Frank in the eyes again. “Not like this,” he answered. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.” The rest was obvious. It was only Frank. It was always Frank. Vince went back to it, kissing down Frank’s erection, tasting it on every kiss. At last he reached his balls, tender and soft like silk against his skin. Beneath them lay a hairy paradise where Frank’s musky essence lived more intensely. This was where Vince longed to be.

“Open your legs,” Vince requested softly. Frank complied.

Between Frank’s open thighs, Vince found his new happy place. Tinder and rich, Vince took his first taste while firmly stroking Frank’s cock. The hair beneath Frank’s balls was delicious to Vince, and he licked his perineum firmly while he milked Frank’s cock with his hand. He tenderly nosed Frank’s balls as he mouthed the pubic hairs beneath them. Vince listened joyfully as he heard Frank moan and cry out his name.

Vince looked up into Frank’s eyes. “You are fucking delicious!”

“Oh God, Vinnie!”

“Mine,” Vince whispered one more time and then took Frank’s erection to the root into his mouth, deep throating him. Vince was hungry for Frank, and he wanted Frank forever. Only he would drink Frank’s cum and taste Frank’s essence. Only he would feel Frank’s gloriously perfect body, just hairy enough to be a tactile and olfactory playground. Frank was his and no one else’s. _Fuck you Jenny McPike! You lose. I win,_ He thought. Vince plunged headlong into his enthusiastic blow job, taking Frank’s cock with an almost savage pleasure. He felt Frank’s hand cupping his head, lightly guiding him while his fingers combed into his hair. Vince milked him using his hand and his mouth moving with determination and purpose.

He looked up Frank’s body and met Frank’s gaze. Frank was watching him in breathless wonder. But that was the tipping point. Frank’s head fell back and again he roared again. Frank’s erection throbbed in Vince’s mouth and he soon tasted warm, salty cum. Frank’s hips spasm and his thighs trembled as he came down from his explosive orgasm. Vince stroked the last of the cum out of Frank and licked and kissed his glans clean.

“Vinnie,” frank whispered. “You’re so good to me.”

Vince came up to lie beside him. Laying his head on Frank’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm over Frank’s chest. “I want to go home, Frank. Take me home.”  
~~~  
That morning, they left by the boat Roger had left for them. They went to the main land and landed at Belize City. From their Frank contacted the American consulate to Belize. Vince was an undocumented American citizen seized from his country illegally and against his will. The fact that he was also a federal agent put a critical topspin to the situation.

When he was asked how he managed to escape, Frank stepped in throwing around the full weight of his federal badge saying that Vince would be debriefed by the FBI and the justice department in D.C. and no sooner. Vince knew, in that way Frank was protecting Roger, the man who had managed to deliver Vince from evil but was not the one he was willing to go to hell for.

Within three days, they were on a flight to Miami.

***  
Marc at the marina contacted him once his boat had returned. Roger took the news indifferently but waited a few days before he headed down to the marina to collect his boat. He didn’t ask who brought it back. He didn’t inquire if there was more than one occupant.

Back at the villa, everything was silent. The room that had been Vince’s was clean, the bed made, the sheets laundered, the bathroom immaculate. The kitchen was clean, the dishes washed and put away. The home entertainment center in the living room was back as was found.

The only evidence of his guest that Roger found was a note in the kitchen weighed down by the knife block on the center island counter.

_Roger,_  
_Thank you. Now we owe you._  
_Vinnie and Frank_

Roger was sure Vinnie wrote that note while Frank protested every single word of it. It didn’t matter. What mattered is that they were on their way home.

“And they lived happily ever after, Buckwheat,” Roger said out loud. “And that’s all you need to know.”

The end


End file.
